Cloister of Secrets
by Silbrith
Summary: Peter joins Neal on a heist in order to capture a buyer of stolen rare books and manuscripts. Neal and Sara begin to come out of the closet. November 2005. Travel: France. Fluff: Thanksgiving
1. Behind the Veil

_Notes: This story takes place after the events in The Musicians and Columbia Ghost Story. See the notes at the end of the chapter for more information._

* * *

**Chapter 1: Behind the Veil**

**White Collar Conference Room. Thursday, November 10, 2005. **

"How about Dagfinn?" Neal rolled it on his tongue as he tossed his rubber band ball even higher in the air. "It has a note of sophisticated gravitas."

He and the other members of the team were cooling their heels in White Collar's conference room while waiting for their boss to appear. Peter's tardiness gave them ample time to arrive at a consensus.

"Only to your ears," Diana objected. "Gunnar, now that's a name which commands respect."

"Not as much as Kjartan," countered Travis, White Collar's tech and sci-fi expert.

Jones looked up from his laptop. "You just like that name because it reminds you of Klingons. He'll never go for it. Bjorn, on the other hand—"

"—sounds like a poet." Diana shook her head firmly. "The boss would never approve."

"What won't I approve?" Peter said, striding into the room. "The fact that you're all wasting time"—he glanced at the plate of cinnamon rolls on the table—"and eating pastries while I was spending a brutal morning being cross-examined at court?"

"You're just grumpy because you haven't had one yet," Neal said, passed him a plate. "You should have called to let us know you were on your way back. Then I would have bought you decent coffee."

"We're all enjoying macadamia nut," Travis added, rubbing extra salt into the wound.

Neal stood up. "But I'll get your mug and supply you with the Bureau's carefully crafted house blend of swill."

"Sit back down," Peter ordered. "I'm wise to your tricks. As if you weren't the ringleader in this."

"Not this time," Jones said. "Astonishing as it sounds, it's all Travis's fault."

Peter's brow furrowed as he studied their resident geek. "Do those bloodshot eyes indicate what I think they do?"

Travis grinned sheepishly. "Aidan and I pulled an all-nighter, but it was worth it. We cracked the code."

Peter's worry lines disappeared. "That's why you were late! I was going to ask you for an update, but you hadn't arrived by the time I needed to leave. Neal, bring me that coffee. News like this is worth two cinnamon rolls."

It was too bad Aidan couldn't join in the celebration, but he was at work. Like Neal, he was juggling multiple jobs. By day he was a cybersecurity programmer. Evenings he was a grad student in visual arts at Columbia. In addition, for the past month, Aidan had been working with Travis to decrypt Rolf Mansfeld's files.

When Rolf's office was raided in Hungary, the hard drive from his computer was one of the prize trophies. Ever since then, Travis and Aidan had made it their top priority to unravel the arcane programming language Rolf specialized in which had been used to encrypt the files.

"Rolf had created a new esoteric language," Travis said. "The breakthrough came when we realized it was based on number sequences derived from 'The Haunter of the Dark.' "

"Isn't that the Lovecraft short story Rolf mentioned at the sci-fi convention last year?" Peter asked, looking stunned.

"That's the one. Aidan and I were getting nowhere finding the key. Out of sheer frustration more than anything else, we listed all the references we'd known him to use. Rolf was sending Diana coded comments to her stories at about the same time he was masquerading as Alistair Chapman at the convention. We reasoned he might have had that story on his brain."

"Write up the details on the language," Peter ordered, "and I'll review them later. For now, let's cut to the chase. What does the file contain?"

"It's a list of buyers of stolen art, including details about where their tastes lie." Travis winced. "We're not home free yet. The names are written in a different code. But since we figured out the first one, we hope decrypting them won't be as much of a challenge. Most important of all, we obtained Rolf's handle for the dark web—his user name, password, even his IP address."

"And that got us started thinking," Jones said. "With that data, someone at White Collar could assume his identity to bring the clients out into the open."

"Think of it, Boss," Diana said. "You could take over Rolf's role. The clients most likely don't know who Rolf is. After all, he'd faked his death four years ago. They must have only dealt with him through his web persona. As far as they're concerned, he's still a player. Rolf planned for Neal to continue working at White Collar while doing the occasional job for him. You'd be Neal's handler instead."

"When you walked in, we were working on an alias for you," Jones added. "We know of your interest in Vikings, so we were thinking of something Norse or Swedish."

Peter rolled his eyes. "Please tell me you don't intend to call me Thor."

Diana grinned. "Not even Odin? How about Olaf?"

Neal was letting the others take the lead. He'd planted the seed of the idea but knew Peter would be more receptive if the others appeared behind it. Meanwhile, Neal was already far ahead of them, sketching ways to use Mozzie as an irregular member of the team. For many of the buyers, Rolf had targeted select acquisitions along with estimated prices of what they were willing to spend. Some of the clients even had short bios which connected them to organized crime groups. The data could be the means of knocking out some of the biggest customers of illegally obtained art.

**WCWCWCWCWCWCWC**

"Steinar Wolff?" Hughes reclined in his desk chair, propped his elbows on the armrests, and scrutinized Peter. "It suits you, but it also points out a glaring issue with this scheme." When his lips tightened into a thin line, Peter braced himself for a rejection.

"I don't dispute your claim that this is a golden opportunity to take down Mansfeld's clients," Hughes continued, "but turning your team into a wolf pack?" He shook his head. "You're venturing into dangerous territory."

"It's not that different from our other stings and undercover work," Peter argued.

"Yes, it is. The normal Bureau sting is within defined parameters. What happened with the U-boat con was an aberration, or so I supposed. What you now propose is an open-ended long con where you would in essence lead a second shadowed life with an active alias always on call."

"That's what we've been requesting of Neal," Peter pointed out.

Hughes made an impatient gesture. "And it highlights the risk for both of you." His scowl deepened. "You're one of the most ethical agents I know. Now you'll be operating as a con man for much of your work. You don't know what repercussions that will have on you. As for Caffrey, I've been concerned about his situation for a while. We rely on his ability to step back into his former criminal persona at our beck and call. By our actions, we're reinforcing any latent desire he may have to slip back into old habits."

"I don't believe that's the case. Neal's displayed no desire to revert despite the temptations which have surrounded him."

"And I'm not accusing him of it, but it's not prudent for any of us to become comfortable with playing loose with the law." Hughes rumbled a grunt, his dissatisfaction in full view. "I'll approve the request for six weeks on a trial basis, but I want you to evaluate carefully the potential ramifications to your career and more importantly to your life."

When Peter stepped out of Hughes's office, he paused on the balcony to gaze down at the bullpen. Neal had pulled over a chair to sit next to Jones. They were in animated conversation, no doubt about the potential stings they'd pull. Was Hughes right? Was Peter crossing the narrow line which divided a sanctioned sting from a decidedly gray con? What would Hughes say if he knew that a few months ago Peter had covered up Neal's theft of a painting by Braque? Peter had known for a while that Neal's ethics didn't always mesh with the Bureau's. Had he come to terms with the same being true for himself?

**WCWCWCWCWCWCWC**

Neal leaned over the display cabinet to take a closer look at the manuscript. The Cloisters Museum was hosting an exhibition of one of Hildegard of Bingen's most famous manuscripts, _The Book of Divine Works_. The twelfth-century German abbess was a writer, mystic, composer, and polymath. The sumptuous manuscript was rarely exhibited outside of Italy. Even if a visit to the exhibition hadn't been required for his seminar on medieval manuscripts, Neal still would have come. The museum was playing a recording of Hildegard's music in the hall. The ethereal female voices made viewing her opus an almost mystical experience.

The book was opened on the folio displaying the cosmic tree. The artist had added several whimsical animals and creatures to the design.

"Do you see any mockingbirds?" murmured a soft voice in his ear.

"No, but there would be in my version." He smiled at Sara, who was wearing a malachite-green sweater as vibrant as the colors in the illumination. He stepped aside to let others view the manuscript. "Did you just arrive?"

She nodded. "I scanned the gallery before I entered and didn't see Henry."

"I double-checked with Angela that he and Eric are helping her today with props for her next kids' play. Henry doesn't have a prayer of escaping before five o'clock."

Neal and Sara had been dating in secret for the past few months. What started out to be a lighthearted game intended to throw the would-be matchmakers off their trail had turned out to be a necessity because of his undercover work. Those stings were now concluded, but they hadn't come out of the closet yet. The main reason for the delay was Henry.

"The afternoon sun has warmed the Cuxa Cloister," she said. "When I arrived, I noticed there were several benches free. It's an ideal setting for plotting our next move."

Their secret assignation at the Cloisters had been a last-minute stroke of luck. Sara had mentioned wanting to see the medieval jewelry exhibit which was in an adjoining gallery, and Neal did as well. They'd assumed they'd need to wear disguises, but when Angela mentioned her plans for Henry, they pounced on the opportunity.

Their hope for a private conversation, however, was quickly dashed. They'd no sooner sat down than a familiar face peeked out from behind one of the pink marble columns. "Exchanging secrets in the Cloisters?" Mozzie asked, his face radiating curiosity. "May I join you?"

"Of course!" Sara said. "Our fellow conspirator is always welcome."

Mozzie was so far the only one who'd uncovered their secret, and he'd become an enthusiastic member in the final stage of the con. Since Henry had gone to such lengths to bring them together, it was fitting that they should lead him on a merry chase at the end, planting clues to make him think he was discovering their secret. And the more of a challenge they made it, the more Henry would enjoy it. Or so they hoped.

Mozzie took a seat on the bench next to Sara. "Was your clue-planting expedition successful last night? More importantly, did Henry take the bait?"

Neal nodded. "I went over to give him a cooking lesson as we'd discussed. I hid his cell phone when I arrived and made it obvious what I'd done, figuring he'd take revenge on mine. He'd lost a pool bet at work and had been forced to switch his ringtone to the 'Macarena.' With that fresh in his mind, he likely would have wanted to pull a ringtone prank on me and I gave him plenty of opportunities. When I returned home, I dusted my cell phone for fingerprints and found his on the case."

"Excellent!" Mozzie said, rubbing his hands together. "What information did you plant?"

"Henry knows I'm dating someone named Alicia and that Sara's boyfriend is Matthew. The calendar listing I planted for tonight is a hint about who those people really are."

"Neal and I wanted to see the new release of _Pride and Prejudice_," Sara said, "and it makes an ideal clue for Henry's devious mind. Jane Austen is a major component of the Clueless con. Neal's alias of Matthew is based on Matthew Macfadyen who plays Darcy in the new movie."

"By choosing Matthew rather than William, you avoid the Darcy curse," Mozzie pointed out. "Very wise."

"I'd told Sara about the curse—how any man who appropriates Darcy's name as an alias is doomed for failure. Henry knows that White Collar tried to make me use it. "

"Neal's been associated with Darcy not only at White Collar," Sara added. "In the Arkham Files stories, Diana wrote that Arkham Neal dressed as Darcy for Halloween. Whose idea was that?"

"El suggested it," Mozzie said. "That was right after she and Henry formed a secret conspiracy to bring the two of you together. The curse was not an issue since costumes don't have the same effect."

Henry was pretending to stay aloof while using El to suggest plot twists for the Arkham Round Table story advisors. Neal and Sara had taken advantage of the activity to make their own suggestions. And now they had a mole, with Mozzie supplying detailed reports of what was discussed at each meeting.

"I'd added the time and location of the movie onto my calendar," Neal said. "Henry undoubtedly would have researched it."

"How will you play the evening's action?" Mozzie asked.

"I'll be in my Alicia disguise and wearing a blond wig," Sara said. "Alicia likes clothes with an edgy look."

"Henry will think I'm dating a rocker chick," Neal said, smiling at her. "But the movie may throw him. He's already spotted Alicia once at Riffs which was much more her style."

"We're hoping Henry makes the connection to my name," Sara said. "Alicia Silverstone played the main character in the movie _Clueless_ which was based on Jane Austen's _Emma_. In the Arkham Files stories, my character has been particularly clueless."

"And you think Henry will realize Alicia is you?" Mozzie considered the idea for a moment. "He's seen Neal's Matthew disguise when you staged a date at the Japanese restaurant a week ago. The film connection is sufficiently obscure, he may not make the connection. He'll likely think the movie is Neal's choice. He could deduce that Neal yearns to be like Darcy but can't because of the curse. Instead, he's self-destructing on a biker babe."

"Meaning that he'll be even more protective of me?" Neal groaned. "That wasn't my intention. He needs that puppy."

"What puppy?" Sara asked.

"Henry wants a dog, and I'm doing my best to encourage him. Tomorrow we're going to a rescue shelter on Long Island to look at Portuguese Water Dogs. Henry's taking this very seriously. He's borrowed Satchmo for the weekend in preparation."

"Satchmo will be a welcome addition for building props, but Henry won't be able to take him to the movie." Sara frowned. "Our efforts may be in vain. He won't show up."

"He'll be there," Neal predicted confidently. "He'll concoct some excuse for Eric or Angela to dog sit."

"Did Henry make any mention of his part in the latest Arkham Files story?" Mozzie asked.

Neal shook his head. "Didn't say a word, and the words must have been burning his tongue. I give him high marks for his acting skill. Even though you'd written him in as Arkham Neal's superhero, he was able to refrain from teasing me about it."

"Perhaps he hasn't read the story yet?" Sara suggested.

"Oh, he read it," Neal said confidently. "Probably multiple times. Elizabeth could have even supplied him an advance copy."

"Henry will be hoisted by his own petard," Mozzie said. "That initial claim he didn't read the stories has come back to bite him. Now he'll be all the more eager to expose Alicia. He could be feeling desperate. Continue to maintain vigilance."

Sara turned to Mozzie. "Speaking of which, how did you know we'd be at the Cloisters?"

"Much as I'd like to pretend I'm psychic, alas, I don't have the gift. This was a case of serendipity. I came to see Hildegard's manuscript. I've long admired her." Mozzie kissed his fingers. "What a remarkable lady! Do you know she even invented an alternative alphabet? She would have made an expert spymaster. But that's not the only reason I'm here. I needed to see for myself what is attracting so much attention." He paused to scan the arcade as if he were afraid of being overheard, but they were alone. "Hildegard has made it to the dark web. Bokmal is asking about her."

**WCWCWCWCWCWCWC**

"Bokmal," Peter repeated slowly, his eyes narrowing. After a moment he shook his head. "Never heard of him."

He wasn't alone. When Neal related Mozzie's news at the Monday morning briefing, Diana, Jones, and Travis had the same reaction.

"Bokmal is Swedish for _bookworm_," Neal explained. "It's also the handle of an extortionist of rare books. Mozzie's more familiar with his habits than I am." Neal thought it best to not inform the others about Mozzie's personal interest in rare books or his search for an original Dante. "On the black market, there have been rumors of a wealthy buyer of rare books for at least a decade. When the dark web became the networking medium of choice, Bokmal surfaced. Mozzie believes it's the same person. Based on communications, he's believed to be a man, but even that hasn't been corroborated."

"How does he operate?" Travis asked.

"He places an ad on the dark web for a book he wants to acquire. Once a thief has procured it for him, Bokmal holds the book for ransom. Libraries and museums work with insurance companies to pay the ransom because the works are so valuable. Up to now, Bokmal has operated exclusively overseas. That's probably why you're not familiar with him."

"And he's interested in"—Jones looked at the printout Neal had passed around—"_The Book of Divine Works_?"

Neal nodded. "It's understandable. It's an opulent manuscript, made in the early part of the thirteenth century with ten full-page illustrations lavishly painted in gold and brilliant colors." Neal flashed several images of the illustrations from his computer onto the wall-mounted monitor. "It will be exhibited at the Cloisters till the end of the month."

Peter was eyeing him questioningly, and Neal decided to be upfront. "In case anyone is wondering, I've never done a job for Bokmal, nor has Mozzie, as far as I know."

Travis looked up from his laptop. "There's an entry in Rolf's file about someone who collects rare books. He'd made a note to look into something called"—he frowned, twisting his lips—"_Très Riches_ . . ."

"_Heures du Duc de Berry_?" Neal asked, spelling it aloud.

Travis sighed in relief. "That's it."

"Care to fill us in, Caffrey?" Jones asked.

"That's one of the most famous manuscripts in existence. It's in a museum in Chantilly, France. It was made in the early fifteenth century and contains naturalistic portraits of chateaux and nobility. It's one of the finest—"

"We get the idea," Peter said, cutting him off just as he was warming up. "Let's focus on the present manuscript, _Professor, _for now."

Neal didn't dignify Peter's dig with a comment and waved his hand for the others to have at it. The team would have to wait for another time to hear about the Limbourg brothers and their contributions to International Gothic art.

"Is there any indication where Bokmal lives?" Jones asked Travis.

"Possibly, but we haven't deciphered it yet. Aidan and I started with the first name in Rolf's records. We can work on book buyers instead."

"Do it," Peter ordered.

"Could Mozzie write a suitable response for us?" Diana asked.

"Wait a minute," Peter objected. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves. I know what you're thinking and I haven't signed off on Steinar Wolff being involved."

"If we don't, boss, someone else will," she pointed out, not budging from her position as Neal mentally cheered her on.

"Bokmal could pick someone else," Peter said.

"Not when he finds out you've got Caffrey on your crew," Jones said, tossing in his support.

Peter turned to Travis. "The message will appear to come from Rolf?"

He nodded. "We have his user name, password, and IP address."

"My bet is no one on the dark web knows the person behind the user name, which is only a string of numbers," Jones said. "We could put together an impressive track record of your thefts, based on the Mansfelds' crimes. We have a list of stolen items. Some of them have not been made public, but their sales have been reported on the dark web."

Peter took a breath. "Neal, would Mozzie be able to guide us through the negotiation process?"

"For a suitable fee." Neal understood Peter's reluctance. The situation was close to what Rolf had hoped to achieve, with Neal working a shadow life for high commission jobs. Only now the puppetmaster would be Peter. Neal was used to shapeshifting between personalities, but Peter wasn't. The team was enthusiastic to try, and with the job being in New York, Peter would have a difficult time not going along. If Bokmal didn't give them the commission, they'd be forced to prevent someone else from stealing it.

During the briefing, a text message arrived from Sara, asking him to call her. Neal suspected she wanted to know what Henry had said. The previous day Neal had gone with Henry and the Burkes to look at water dogs. Henry was now the proud owner of a puppy named Splash. He'd made no mention of the movie on Saturday night, although Neal had spotted him in the lobby of the theater. Neal was expecting a call at any moment where Henry would gloat about how he'd unmasked them. Perhaps he'd called Sara instead in an attempt to tease more information out of her.

When the meeting adjourned, Neal headed to his art niche in the lab. His assignment was to familiarize himself with the Cloisters security system, and he'd take advantage of the lab resources to prepare detailed schematics. Travis sat next to him in the lab, and Neal waited till he'd left to talk with one of the techs before calling her.

Unexpectedly, Henry wasn't on Sara's mind. London was.

"I've been reassigned," she said. "Sterling-Bosch wants me to return to the London office."

"For one job?"

"No, I'm to be there for the indefinite future." Sara was speaking quietly, but he could hear the disappointment in her voice. She sounded as deflated as he felt. "New York was always considered a temporary assignment."

"When do they want you to start?"

"Next week."

Neal exhaled. "I don't suppose you can protest the lack of advance notice?"

"I wish I could."

With the upcoming sting only days away, finding the time to see each other would be difficult. All Neal could tell her was that he might be working undercover. After she rang off, he tried to focus on the blueprint of the Cloisters. He needed to devise a plausible way of making off with the Hildegard if they hoped to trick Bokmal, but thoughts of Sara kept interfering.

He didn't have a good track record with long-distance relationships. Fiona's departure for Paris had struck the death knell to their romance. This would be a test, and from that perspective he should welcome it. When they began dating, both he and Sara were wary of the glitches which would inevitably crop up. Would she meet someone else? Fiona had. Was the impending train wreck he'd feared now barreling down the tracks?

Travis returned to his desk and Neal busied himself with schematics, or tried to. By the time Peter dropped in an hour later, asking for an update, he hadn't made much progress.

Peter leaned over the blueprint. "The medieval elements in the galleries present an additional challenge."

Neal composed his features into an easy smile. "But nothing Steinar Wolff and his pack can't handle." He could have delayed telling Peter, but it would eventually have to come out. "Sara contacted me. Her assignment in New York is ending. She'll head back to London next week."

"I'm sorry to hear that." Peter looked at Neal questioningly. "Sara has provided valuable assistance on our cases."

"And she'll likely continue to do so," Neal said readily. "National boundaries mean less and less these days. Look at Bokmal. He's operated mainly in Europe, but he could have an apartment in New York City."

"I'll miss seeing her," Peter said, not picking up on Neal's deflection. "El will too."

"We all will," Travis added. "Richard's enjoyed working with her on disguises."

Neal avoided the trap of speaking about his feelings. "Perhaps someday she'll participate on another of our cases."

"It's a good thing you and Sara are just friends," Travis remarked blandly. "In Diana's stories, Arkham Neal's pining for Sara who's accepted an assignment in London. I suspect Diana has something devilish in mind to torment them with. Nothing you two will have to worry about."

How devious was Travis? Did he suspect their secret? Was he deliberately trying to provoke a reaction? Neal hadn't even stopped to consider what dangers Sara might face. With him in New York, and Rolf Mansfeld currently in prison facing trial, Azathoth was no longer a worry, right?

* * *

_Notes: Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoy this installment to the Caffrey Conversation series. Many thanks to Penna Nomen for sprinkling her beta magic on this story._

_Neal's dinner with Henry is described in Penna's delightful vignette "Splash." She wrote it about a year ago, and it was my pleasure to weave the events into the plot of this story. The version of Pride and Prejudice with Keira Knightley and Matthew Macfadyen premiered in the States in the fall of 2005, just in time for the Clueless con. Penna invented the Darcy curse for her story By the Book, and we've been playing with it ever since._

_This story is part of the Caffrey Conversation AU, created by Penna Nomen. If you'd like to see photos of the cast members and other visuals, visit the Cloister of Secrets board on our Caffrey Conversation Pinterest site __where both Penna and I pin illustrations for our stories. I'll update the board with additional pins when I post a new chapter. _

_Penna and I share a blog called Penna Nomen & Silbrith Conversation_, _where we post about our stories and adventures in writing. We also have summaries for all the stories we've written. FanFiction doesn't allow links in notes, but I've added links to both our blog and our Pinterest site in my profile. _

**_Background on the Caffrey Conversation AU for new readers_**_: This series was created by Penna Nomen and begins with her story Caffrey Conversation. Our blog has a list and short summaries for all the stories in chronological order. The primary difference from canon in that Neal was never sent to prison and the characters are several years younger. The personalities of canon characters (Elizabeth, Mozzie, Diana, Jones, Hughes, June, and Sara) are the same. _

_Peter recruited Neal in 2003 when he was 24. In the fall of 2004 he entered Columbia University's graduate program in art as a part-time student. In the spring of 2005 Peter and Neal were appointed to the Interpol art crimes task force. The work on the task force is part time and places additional emphasis on art crimes for the White Collar team. __In canon, Neal's only relatives to be mentioned are his father and mother. In ours, his mother Meredith has a twin sister named Noelle who is a psychologist. Noelle married Peter's older brother Joe during the 2004 Christmas holidays. Henry Winslow is Noelle's son and nearly three years older than Neal. He works at a private investigation and security company named Winston-Winslow (usually referred to as Win-Win). Neal has one other cousin, Angela, who is the daughter of Noelle and Meredith's deceased brother. Working with the White Collar team are two non-canon characters: Travis Miller, a technical expert, and Tricia Wiese, a profiler. Neal's friends at Columbia include fellow grad students Richard and Aidan. Pins for the entire cast and locations are on our Caffrey Conversation Pinterest site. _


	2. In the Closet

**Chapter 2: In the Closet**

**Burke Townhouse. Monday, November 14, 2005.**

"Have you been able to find out anything about Alicia?"

El sighed at Henry's disembodied voice as she reached for the cayenne. She'd put him on speaker so she could finish the chili. Peter was due home any minute. This was not the most convenient time for a matchmaker consultation.

"I asked Peter a few days ago, and he said Neal never mentions her."

"That confirms my suspicions," he said. The satisfaction in his voice was blended with a gloomy undertone.

"What suspicions?"

"The undercover stings are over. The Mansfelds and Vincent Adler are all in prison. There's only one reason which makes any sense for Neal to continue hiding Alicia from you and Peter, not to mention his best friend and trusted confidant. She must be an acquaintance from the years before he joined the FBI."

"You think she's a thief?"

"I know it. I saw them together Saturday night, and she had cat burglar written all over her."

El frowned at the phone. "Henry, are you following Neal?"

"Of course not—just an occasional surveillance."

She raised a brow at Satchmo who was sprawled on the floor next to the butcher block table. He agreed with her. This wouldn't end well. "What did Neal say when you spoke to him about it?"

Silence for a moment. "I didn't ask him."

"Yesterday, you were together all afternoon and you didn't bring it up?"

"Neal didn't know I was there on Saturday night," Henry said, a hint of defensiveness in his voice. "He would have jumped to the wrong conclusion just like you did."

_It was the right conclusion_, she mouthed silently to Satchmo.

"I'd suspected Alicia is actually Alex, and this proves it."

"Are you sure she's a thief?"

"I believe so. Neal met her when he was in Europe. He wouldn't talk about her to me, and that must mean he's hiding something—like her occupation. I dug back in my notes and discovered he'd mentioned her in connection with a trip he'd made to Greece. This was in 2002. I called on Win-Win's contact in Greece."

_Henry keeps notes of their conversations?_ El tried to keep her sigh from being audible. "Was this the man who helped monitor Adler's retreat in Albania?"

"That's right. Yannis Pavlou. He mentioned that there was a female thief who'd been suspected of pulling a heist in Athens that year named Alex Hunter. I bet that's the same person. Win-Win doesn't have any information about her. I was thinking of asking Travis to search the FBI records. What do you—Hey, stop that, Splash!"

She heard puppy growls in the background. "Sounds to me like you should be playing with Splash rather than worrying about Neal."

"She's gnawing my shoe!"

"She's a puppy, Henry. You better get used to it. I need to go, anyway. Peter's car just rolled up."

"Let me know if you find out anything. Splash, come back with that shoe!"

El chuckled as she tapped the end-call button. "Good boy, Satchmo. Henry thought borrowing you for a day would be adequate preparation for what it was like to have a puppy. He should have borrowed you a few years ago. How many shoes did you go through?"

"Eight as I recall," Peter supplied, walking into the kitchen. "I gather that was Henry on the phone?"

She set down her spoon to kiss him. "He's experiencing the joy of fatherhood."

Peter smiled but those worry lines didn't leave his brow. Something was bothering him and it wasn't Henry's ability to train a puppy.

"The chili needs to simmer another thirty minutes," she said. "Would you like a beer?" As if she needed to ask. While he poured her a glass of wine and opened a bottle of honey mead for himself, she rummaged in the cabinet for the cheeseboard. Whatever was troubling him would be eased by Vermont Cheddar, summer sausage, and crackers. Satchmo's eyes lit up almost as much as Peter's. He sensed a reward ahead for having given up on shoes years ago.

When they were sitting on the couch, drinks and snacks in front of them, El hazarded a guess. "Is Steinar Wolff acting up?"

Peter nodded. "He's become an issue earlier than I'd anticipated. There's an opportunity which is perfect to test drive the concept, but I have the feeling once I'm behind the wheel, I may not want to give up the driver's seat."

El was glad Peter had already disclosed Hughes's warning. Peter respected Reese's judgment. His warning was not something Peter would dismiss out of hand.

"I have complete faith in your moral compass," El said, attempting to reassure him. "Neal handles multiple roles without losing his identity. I'm sure you'll be able to as well."

"I'm not so sure about that. It's not just me. It's Neal. Is Reese right? Are the undercover roles we're demanding of him exacting too high a price? Will he ever feel in a secure enough position to settle down, for instance? Have a family?"

She hadn't considered it that way. If Peter's theory was right, that could explain why he gravitated toward Alex. She was already a thief. He wouldn't have to worry about hurting her. Was that why Neal shied away from Sara? El had been keeping her and Henry's matchmaking attempts a secret from Peter, but in light of the situation at work, she could be depriving him of helpful information.

"I have a confession to make," she said, swallowing. Peter looked up, startled at her words, and she cringed inside. "Henry approached me to help spark romantic flames between Neal and Sara."

Peter smiled. "Neal and Sara's romance in Arkham Files? I thought I detected Henry's influence at work."

"You already knew?" She felt her face grow as hot as the chili.

"I suspected. I imagine Neal and Sara do, too. All those suggestions they've been making to Diana? I figured it was a game of double dare, but it also leads me to think they're quite content in the friend zone. Why are you bringing this up now?"

"Because Henry found out something which you should know." She wasn't going to betray his confidence about following Neal to the movie, but it was time for her to be the grown-up in the conspiracy. "Henry believes Alicia is actually someone named Alex Hunter. She's a thief." Peter's expression grew troubled, a confirmation that she was right to spill the beans. "Henry doesn't know much about her. Neal only mentioned Alex to him in passing, but Henry put two and two together. Neal dated her when he was in Greece in 2002. Henry's convinced that Neal doesn't discuss Alicia because of her occupation. Henry's spotted her a few times and says she moves and dresses like a cat burglar." As Peter sat in silence, she told him how Henry had obtained the last name.

Peter gave a slow exhale when she finished. "Don't tell me we have another Kate on our hands. I was hoping that Neal was attracted to Sara. Last week when we rescued her and Mozzie from the ghost, I caught Neal kissing Sara, and it was no peck on the cheek. I didn't say anything, and he didn't see me. If anyone else had kissed her that way, I would have been convinced he was passionate about her. With Neal, you never know."

"Oh, this is horrible!"

Peter winced. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you. I'd seen Neal kiss others as part of a con. I wasn't sure what to make of it. Then when I saw how he acted when he told me Sara was leaving—"

"What? Sara's leaving?" She'd meant to correct Peter's misunderstanding. She wasn't upset at him for not telling her. What he'd seen proved that Neal did have feelings for Sara but he was refusing to let himself act on them.

"Neal told me that she called to tell him she's been reassigned to London," Peter said, seemingly oblivious to the extent of the wreckage. "He didn't appear concerned at the thought of her moving away, at least no more than he would for any other friend."

El's shoulders sagged. All their efforts had been for naught. There wouldn't be any chance of them getting together now that they'd be separated by an ocean. She'd give Henry the bad news after dinner.

Peter squeezed her hand. "I should have mentioned it to you earlier. Forgive me?"

"You did nothing wrong. It's just I'm sure Sara has real feelings for Neal. How could he pick a thief over her?" El's frustration was bubbling through in the note of desperation she heard in her voice. If Henry knew about what Peter had seen, he wouldn't be able to contain himself. She resolved to hold off telling him for at least a few days. Perhaps Neal would let him know and she wouldn't have to.

"Neal's dating a criminal . . . " Peter shook his head. "This sheds new light on Reese's warning. Neal will be tempted more than ever."

"Should you talk to him?"

Peter grimaced. Having to talk with anyone about their love life was at the bottom of his list of desirable activities, but he was the only one who could. Neal had made it abundantly clear he didn't want her matchmaking help.

"I'll look into Alex Hunter," he agreed. "Henry doesn't have a photo of her. We're not certain that Alicia is Alex. Frankly I'm more concerned about Neal's lack of interest in Sara."

"He may think she's too good for him. When he broke up with Fiona, we worried that was the underlying reason. Henry has also suggested that could be a factor."

Peter nodded thoughtfully. "I've wondered how much Neal is still being influenced by his childhood. He's got a felon for a father. He's estranged from his mother. He spent his childhood in WITSEC. How large of a factor is James? Does Neal think he's somehow tainted by James's crimes?"

"He was ripped from his relatives when he was three years old," El agreed. "When he discovered the truth about his father, he felt betrayed. Will he ever feel like he can make a long-term commitment to a woman?"

"That may be Alicia's appeal. Even if she's not Alex, she could be some other thief. Deep down, Neal's more comfortable in her world than ours. And our new assignment will only strengthen those hooks."

**WCWCWCWCWCWCWC**

Travis returned to the lab with a freshly filled mug of coffee. "Bad news?" he asked, sitting down at his workstation.

"The trials and tribulations of an art student," Neal said, reading the text message one last time before deleting it. "The professor of my Impressionism seminar made additional demands for the final paper. How am I supposed to explain the heist comes first?"

Travis made sympathetic noises and turned to face his monitor. Neal consoled himself that he'd made a true statement even if the professor he'd just maligned hadn't sent the text.

He'd spent the previous evening at Sara's. They'd made plans to see each other daily till her departure on Sunday while bemoaning how little time they had. Today she texted him that she was at home packing and that she'd have to leave for London this evening. She was needed as an emergency replacement for a British agent who'd been in a car accident. There'd be no chance to see her before she left. Neal was tempted to invent an excuse to duck out of work, but his schedule was already booked. In the afternoon, he and Peter were due to have a conference call with security officials at the Met.

He should be focusing on the op. The museum had sent over additional blueprints of the Cloisters complex. Mozzie had formulated a response for Peter and answered Bokmal's inquiry. A reply could come at any moment. This was the type of assignment he dreamed about, but his heart wasn't in it. All he could think about was Sara.

Fortunately, Travis was unlikely to notice anything was amiss. He and Aidan were working on deciphering Bokmal's name. Travis should be oblivious to anything going on around him for the rest of the day.

At noon the sun unexpectedly came out when Sara dropped in to say goodbye to the team. As she made the rounds, Neal was just one of many offering their best wishes on the new assignment. When he palmed her a slip of paper, she readily disguised it. There was no chance of them meeting privately on the White Collar floor, but the forensics lab on the floor below had an out-of-the-way supply room. Neal had gone there a few times out of last resort when the resources in the White Collar storeroom were depleted. Few appeared to be aware of the forensics stash.

Thirty minutes later, he was waiting at the elevator on the forensics floor to greet her. By then, most of the other team members had already drifted off to lunch. When Sara exited the elevator, he kept the conversation strictly on business topics until he guided her to a side corridor.

"I was hoping you knew of a secluded spot," Sara murmured in his ear. "Did you know I'm very fond of closets and secret assignations?"

"For a woman who loves her adventures mixed with an element of danger, I hoped that was the case." He reached into his pocket for his wallet and retrieved a small lock pick nestled inside. Privacy was essential.

Seconds later, they slipped into the closet. The ambiance of the metal shelving units was not up to his standards, but Sara didn't appear to mind. She drew him close. "I'm leaving the wine in the apartment. I hope I'll be back soon. The apartment's mine till the first of the year when Clare returns from London."

Neal didn't want to think about what would happen months from now. He kissed her and she responded with equal heat, prolonging the kiss.

"What are your plans for Thanksgiving?" he murmured as her hand drifted toward his belt.

"To be with you."

**WCWCWCWCWCWCWC**

Travis glared at his mouse. _Was this really necessary? You had to pick today to die?_

How was he supposed to decrypt Rolf's code with a non-functioning mouse? He'd realized the battery was going, but the supply room was out of spares. He knew he should have picked up a replacement yesterday after work.

And he was so close. He could almost taste the solution. If only he had a mouse. He'd already taken out the battery, cleaned the connection . . .

_Enough_. Travis stood up. He might not have a _Star Trek_ replicator, but there were storerooms on other floors to be scrounged. Last time he'd checked, forensics was well equipped. He was halfway out of the lab when he stopped. Yesterday a bulletin had been circulated which reminded staff to keep their computers and office property secure. The forensics techies could have taken the warning to heart and locked up their supplies. It would be just his luck to get there, find the room locked, and have to return without a battery for his malfunctioning mouse. Travis retrieved a master key from his desk and headed for the hallway. Most everyone was out or having lunch in the breakroom, but not him. Once his mouse was working again, he could have the code cracked by the afternoon briefing.

Travis didn't bother waiting for the elevator but took the stairs instead. There were a couple of storerooms on the floor, but he'd had the best luck with the one on a side passage.

He inserted the key in the lock and opened the door. The light came on as the door opened and . . . Travis quickly placed a hand over his eyes.

"Not seeing anything," he called out, beating a fast retreat and trying valiantly not to laugh, but Sara's giggles were making it impossible. "I'm the last one to force someone out of the closet before they're ready," he announced to the world at large. "I'll stand outside the door and check my phone for messages."

"Thank you!" Neal called out. "You're the best."

Travis distanced himself from the door by several paces and took up his station, still chuckling to himself. Aidan and Richard were convinced Neal was seeing someone and for the past couple of weeks had been teasing him about Constance, d'Artagnan's sweetheart. The musketeers were right. Aidan's girlfriend Keiko had provided possible confirmation when she spotted something at the Halloween speakeasy party which led her to think it was Sara. Not mentioning anything to the others would be difficult, but he'd meant what he said. Neal and Sara's secret was safe.

**WCWCWCWCWCWCWC**

"I don't expect you to keep it from Richard," Neal told Travis. "He and Aidan already suspect there's someone."

He and Sara had been lingering over goodbyes when Travis interrupted them. They didn't need a lookout for long. After one final kiss, they used the light from their cell phones to check they were reasonably presentable before exiting the room. Neal escorted Sara back to the elevator while Travis rummaged in the supplies for a battery, the cause of their unmasking. Afterward, Neal and Travis took the stairs to go back to White Collar.

"Who else knows?" Travis asked.

"Only Mozzie. We've been keeping our dates a secret primarily to stay below the radar of the matchmaking contingent."

"The Arkham Round Table?" Travis guessed.

Neal nodded. "We also suspect Henry's been feeding suggestions to the writing group, most likely through Elizabeth. We were forced to keep our relationship a secret during the previous op." He paused on the landing before opening the door. "Now that the bad guys have been arrested, you're probably wondering why we haven't come out in the open."

"I meant what I said. If you're not ready, I won't try to persuade you."

"It's complicated."

Travis snorted softly. "Of course it is. You're involved with it."

"I'm not the only one," Neal protested. "Henry's just as bad. He's been scheming to get me and Sara together for over a year."

"So to show your appreciation for him trying to arrange exactly what you want, you're hiding it from him." Travis rolled his eyes. "What kind of twisted logic is that?"

"If Henry had been upfront about his views, we wouldn't have tried to mislead him," Neal insisted, fairly confident he was right. "But from the beginning, he's plotted behind our backs. He's never asked me how I feel about Sara."

"It's starting to make more sense. You're reciprocating."

"There was an element of that in the beginning plus a lot of doubt about whether we'd be able to date without having something blow up in our faces. It's only been for the past couple of weeks that we could date openly, and we decided to make a game out of leading Henry to the truth."

"Make him think he discovered your secret?" Travis chuckled. "Knowing Henry, he'd find that much more satisfying than to be told how you fooled him."

"But so far he hasn't guessed." Neal had hoped Henry would have realized who Alicia was by now. He was probably distracted by the puppy on Sunday, but surely he would have had time to puzzle out the solution on Monday. Then again, maybe he'd discovered the truth but wasn't commenting on it. "Mozzie is in favor of extending the con for a month since Sara won't be in New York. It looks like I'll need to plant more clues to make him realize the truth. Would you like to help?"

His eyes glinted. "It could be a cool hack."

"I'll see Richard and Aidan at fencing practice tonight. I'll come clean with them then."

"They'll enjoy being included, plus they'll be able to stop speculating about who Constance is. Henry's asked both me and Richard about Alicia. I imagine he's also checked with Aidan."

"I'm not surprised. Apparently, he's asked everyone but me."

"I told him the truth. You've never mentioned her to me. He added a new wrinkle when he and Eric dropped in at Marmalade's last week."

Henry didn't normally visit the jazz club where Richard and Travis played. Neal waited curiously to hear what his creative mind had come up with.

"He took me aside to ask if you'd ever talked about someone named Alex Hunter. I got the impression that he thinks Alicia is actually Alex." Travis paused. "I see that gleam in your eyes. What are you thinking?"

"A new con takes shape before our eyes." Offhand, Neal couldn't remember when he'd mentioned her to Henry, but he was ready to take advantage of it. The last time he'd seen her was when he was working for Adler. Alex didn't generally work in the States so Henry would have difficulty finding her. If he was convinced he'd uncovered Alicia's identity, why was he holding off bringing her up to Neal? Until he did, the game was still on.

**WCWCWCWCWCWCWC**

"A Eureka moment?" Diana repeated, wide-eyed. Travis was sitting across from her at the conference table and she placed her hands on the polished surface to lean toward him. "Was it caused by algolnium?" she demanded. "Did Lavinia sneak you some of the alien chemical without telling me?"

Peter chuckled. Travis was normally reserved during briefings, but he'd used a jet suit to fly into this one. His behavior over the past few days made Peter wonder just how much influence Neal was having on White Collar's reticent tech expert. Peter had spotted them joking about something in the corridor before the briefing started.

Everyone's mood was improved now that the double-barreled threat of Ydrus and the Mansfelds was off their backs. He and Neal had recorded their testimonies. Adler and Kate were being tried in Paris. The Mansfelds were sitting in a Hungarian prison while government authorities debated which country had top priority. The team had considered ending the Arkham Files stories, but with Mozzie offering to share in the writing chores, Diana had agreed to continue them. Supposedly the stories were attracting enough readers to make them worthwhile, but Peter saw the primary benefit as a teambuilding exercise. Joking about the stories brought them all closer together. Algolnium and Neal's Eureka flashes of inspiration were prime examples.

Travis steepled his fingers in front of his mouth, apparently giving serious consideration to Diana's outrageous statement.

"I bet you're right," Jones agreed. "This is just like when Neal's character could suddenly translate an unknown script." He turned to Peter. "I wonder if Rolf was thinking about that when he designed such abstruse codes."

"You're not that far off base," Travis said. "And I owe the breakthrough to Diana, although in a sense Mozzie deserves the credit."

"Enough with the buildup," Peter demanded. "Out with it."

"Rolf's code for the buyers' names is based on the Theban script of Heinrich Agrippa."

"That obscure script Diana used in _Lion's Lair_?" Neal snorted his delight. "I love it. Rolf stole her idea."

"Can we add plagiarism to the list of charges?" Diana asked with a grin.

"Mozzie may try," Travis said. "He told me he was the one who researched Agrippa and explained the code to you."

"And I thought it was too arcane for even Arkham Files to use," she admitted.

"Obviously not for Rolf," Jones said.

"The decrypted code gave me an IP address and a name—Reginald Stanton," Travis said. "The IP address is in Garrison, New York."

"That's near West Point," Peter said. "It's about an hour drive north of here along the Hudson River."

Jones and Diana were already performing a search on their laptops.

"He's not in the Bureau files," Jones said.

"But his name has several search results," Diana countered. "He's on the board of the Hudson Valley Hospital. He was nominated for the position last year, and they have a picture of him on their website." She connected her laptop to the projector and flashed the image on the screen. Stanton looked to be in his seventies. He had a distinguished face with lean features and a mane of white hair which made him look like he could be the conductor of a symphony orchestra. Diana reported he'd worked for an investment brokerage. His family had lived in Garrison for generations. The estate where Stanton lived had been his family's country retreat for over a hundred years. The Stantons were one of the railroad baron families of the late nineteenth century. Was their descendant a robbery baron instead?

Thanks to the evidence provided by Rolf's files, they'd have sufficient cause to tap Stanton's phones. Jones would be in charge of conducting surveillance on the property.

Neal's cell phone buzzed. "It's Mozzie. I better take it." After a minute, he told the group, "You'll want to hear this. Mozzie, I'm putting you on speaker. Don't divulge the location of your treasure house."

There was absolute silence on the other end for a moment. Peter was tempted to call out that the ghost of J. Edgar had left the room and the coast was clear, but he restrained himself. They needed Mozzie's help with the dark web. Layers of authentication and security were built in. Jones had worked with Mozzie to answer Bokmal, but Mozzie had yet to divulge his access secrets.

A sound of nervous throat-clearing was heard through the speaker.

"We don't have all day, Mozzie," Diana prompted impatiently. "Spill it."

"We're a go," the shadow lurker finally divulged. "Bokmal accepted your offer. He whittled down the price, offering three million for the book. I'll send you the transcript."

"Did he ask anything personal about Rolf?" Peter asked.

"In a way. He seemed aware that Rolf was bringing in new talent. Rolf likely put out feelers to some of his best customers with the announcement that he'd soon be able to satisfy their every desire. Bokmal has placed some rather clever stipulations on the agreement. You must be willing to accomplish the theft on the time and date of his choosing, and he warned that the proceedings will be recorded. Do you want me to accept?"

Peter looked at Neal who nodded his head. Peter had realized that conditions would be inevitable, but he'd hoped they wouldn't actually have to carry out the theft. Hughes's warning echoed loud in his head as he gave Mozzie approval to proceed.

* * *

_Notes: In Caffrey Disclosure, Neal and Sara staged a passionate encounter in a file room at Win-Win's headquarters in Baltimore. There was nothing fake about this one. The first time they knew a guard was on the way. Here, Travis's arrival was unexpected, but rather than being upset, Neal was delighted to welcome him into his crew. _

_With Sara's departure to London, Neal will have to console himself with orchestrating the theft of an illuminated manuscript. His and Mozzie's connection to rare books and manuscripts is the subject of my blog post this week: "Rare Manuscripts in Caffrey Conversation." Penna's topic is "The Balance of Loss and Hope." She describes some of the insights she's gained from an assignment to analyze the opening scenes of the novel she's writing. Meanwhile, Peter's trying to gain insights on just how much, if any, trouble Neal is in. His concerns multiply in Chapter 3: Belfry Conundrum. _

_Blog: Penna Nomen & Silbrith Conversation__  
Chapter Visuals and Music: The Cloister of Secrets board on the Caffrey Conversation Pinterest website_


	3. Belfry Conundrum

**Chapter 3: Belfry Conundrum**

**Federal Building. Tuesday, November 15, 2005. **

Neal knew his primary challenge wouldn't be the theft but keeping his reluctant partner in crime from bailing. Neal had proposed that Diana be his accomplice, but Peter insisted on getting his hands dirty. So be it.

After the briefing, Neal spent the rest of the afternoon in heist central—his art niche. After months of holding workshops on the subject for others, he was finally being allowed to execute one. The last time Neal had stolen anything was the Braque painting from the church in Paris, and technically that didn't count since he was simply recovering an item he'd previously hidden. Even the break-in at the Met last winter with Keller wasn't a heist. The team had arranged for sirens to sound before he could accomplish the theft.

As far as he was concerned, he was now living the dream. He was able to challenge himself without fear of being arrested. The song "How ya like me now?" was playing in his head. All he needed to do was to get Peter to hear the music.

Henry understood the thrill that came from playing the game. Neal was glad Travis appeared to appreciate it as well. If it worked out as Neal hoped, the Alex con would be the best Christmas present he could give Henry.

That evening after fencing practice, Neal hosted a confessional dessert binge at the student center. Richard and Aidan readily signed up to participate in the con once they'd exhausted the inevitable joshing for Neal having concealed the relationship from his fellow musketeers. Securing their agreement to help prank Henry was a no-brainer. And any guilt Neal might have felt evaporated away when he heard Henry had been pumping Aidan for information about Alicia. Henry had been meeting with him to finish a short film Aidan was preparing for his cinematography course. During a session the previous evening, Henry had switched tactics and tossed in questions on Alex.

Henry would be meeting with Aidan again on Thursday night. It was as if Henry was dropping a pre-fabricated con in Neal's lap. Richard, Aidan, Keiko, Travis, and Mozzie were now on board. There was only one ironclad rule—no lying. The brunt of the immediate challenge would be on Aidan and Richard. Richard didn't have a trace of natural con artist ability. Neal's former fencing coach André Renard was a firm believer in the art of the feint being identical for fencing and con artistry. They were about to put his theory to the test. Asking Richard to con Henry was the equivalent of novice-fencer Richard facing off against last year's winner in the National Championships.

Neal hadn't seen Alex for three years. The last time he'd partnered with her for a jewelry heist in Athens. They'd dated a few times but decided they were too similar to be anything but friends. She'd be amused by her role in the deception.

**WCWCWCWCWCWCWC**

Peter delayed researching Alexandra Hunter till Wednesday—the day Neal spent at Columbia. There was no need to wait till he was out of the office, but as a symbolic gesture, it eased Peter's conscience. He'd promised Neal to stay out of his love life, so asking him about her would be a violation of the agreement. He'd only speak with Neal if he discovered something that raised a warning flag.

Alex wasn't in the FBI database, but Interpol had a file on her. The information was disheartening. She was a suspected thief and fence. She'd been arrested a few times but there'd been no convictions. Although she was American, she'd never been implicated in any crimes in the States. There were a few photos of the attractive woman. In one of them, she wore a cocky, self-confident smile which reminded him of Neal. Henry had been the only one to see Alicia and that was at a distance. Alex was a brunette and Alicia was blonde, but she could have worn a wig. Was Alicia Alex? Did the file raise a sufficient flag to talk to Neal? Kate was a thief. If Neal had replaced her with another one, what were the implications?

Peter remembered how Neal had asked him to provide cover for a date with Alicia last month. Surely that wasn't to facilitate a theft. Peter's gut soured at the thought. Neal had only been back from Hungary for a couple of weeks at the time and was on restricted duty. Was this an indication of the harm the Mansfelds had done?

Hughes had been right to caution Peter. After Rolf's attempt to brainwash Neal by means of a virtual reality program, residual damage continued to be a concern. Doc Jacob had assured him that Neal was no longer suffering any effects from the manipulation, but for a con artist of Neal's ability, it would have been possible to conceal the symptoms. Had Neal's latent desire to be a thief resurfaced? Alex could be stoking any tiny embers into a bonfire. Neal might not even be aware of the pernicious influence she was exerting.

The ringing of his phone roused Peter from his depressing thoughts.

"Hey, Steinar, got time for a consult?"

Neal's smart-alecky voice sent a twinge of guilt through Peter. He shoved Alex into his mental file cabinet for future rumination. "Sure. What's up?" He could hear the sound of conversation in the background. Neal must be calling from Schermerhorn Hall where his classes were held.

"Mozzie heard back from our client. We're on for Saturday night."

"So soon?" Peter's gut gave another lurch.

"This is a good thing. Thanksgiving's next week. By then, the sting will be over and you'll be able to chow down on turkey without worrying."

"Right." Perhaps he could persuade Neal to join him and El at his parents' house in Albany like last year, far away from any possible meetings with Alex. Peter tore his mind away from looming uncomfortable conversations. "Have you figured out how we're going to pretend to steal the manuscript?"

"Just about. I was waiting to hear the conditions to finish it. I'll fill you in tomorrow morning unless you're already booked."

"This is top priority. How much training will be involved?"

"How are you on the high wire?"

**WCWCWCWCWCWCWC**

"So you'll be the one on the high wire, not me?" Peter narrowed his eyes. "I don't find that much of a comfort."

"It's only a figure of speech," Neal hastened to reassure him. "Actually I'll be dangling from an aerial ladder. I have complete faith you won't let me crash onto the display case." Neal had been meeting with Peter for the past hour in the upstairs conference room, reviewing exactly how they would steal the Hildegard manuscript. It had quickly become evident that when it came to creative heists, Steinar Wolff was as much a wet blanket as Peter Burke. Both had zero appreciation for artistry.

The heist workshops were much more enjoyable," Peter admitted. "I knew there was no chance of actually implementing any of the wild ideas."

"I hate to burst your bubble, but I saved all those schemes. You never know when one of them might prove useful."

Bokmal had instructed them to steal the manuscript during a performance of a medieval play, the_ Play of Daniel_, which would take place on Saturday evening in the Fuentidueña Chapel of the Cloisters. They were ordered to record their actions, but Neal was convinced Bokmal wouldn't rely only on that evidence. The clear inference was that other cameras would be hidden to verify they weren't cheating.

"I spoke with security yesterday," Peter said. "They confirmed that the galleries will be locked during the performance of the play. The museum will close at 5:15 p.m. and reopen at 10:00 the following morning."

"Bokmal will likely have had one of his associates place cameras in the gallery to ensure that we'll steal the manuscript between seven and eight that evening. We'll need to make it look as authentic as possible. By entering via the ceiling, I'll be able to assert that I cut the wires to the security cameras first."

"Then you'll shimmy down a dental floss of a ladder and steal the book."

Neal nodded. "Exactly. A simple yet elegant solution. Bokmal won't know that we've had the museum disable the sensors. And since he can't anticipate I'll enter from a ceiling panel, he won't be able to confirm how we turned off the sensors."

"The ceiling in the gallery is thirty feet high," Peter warned.

"That won't be an issue," Neal assured, adding an extra dose of conviction to his voice. "The worst part for you may be the boredom. We'll have to enter our hiding spot hours before the heist."

Peter studied the cutaway drawing the museum had provided. "Which crawl space did you pick?"

"Haven't you always wanted to spend quality time in a bell tower?"

"Actually that wasn't high on my—"

"_High_ is an appropriate word. If you don't mind a climb, we could perch at the very top." When Peter didn't immediately beam at the thrill, Neal reinforced why he should have. "The crawl space over the gallery connects to a maintenance area in the tower. Why should we suffer in a dark confined space, when we can enjoy the ambiance of a Romanesque tower complete with arched windows and magnificent views of the park? The tower is empty. We'll have plenty of space."

"Are you sure? Have you checked it for bats?"

Neal frowned. "They should be hibernating."

"You're not fond of cold weather, as I recall. It could be blustery."

Neal crossed his arms. "I'll take a parka. It's worth it."

"Why do I think you're viewing this op as a trip to Disneyland?"

Neal was saved from answering by Diana and Jones entering the room. "Has Neal told you about the rigging you'll need to employ?" Diana asked, a sly grin on her face.

"Not yet," Peter said, shooting him a suspicious look. "He's been too entranced by the bats in the belfry."

"Which is why we're here," Jones said triumphantly. "He's not the only one."

"My thoughts exactly," Peter said, looking grim. "I must have been batty to agree to this."

"Not when you hear what we found," Jones assured him. "Our surveillance of the estate paid off. Travis is out there now with the team. He contacted me about a call that went out to Hudson Valley Wildlife Control."

"Apparently the Stanton property is plagued by critters in the attic," Diana added.

"The perfect opportunity to search the castle!" Neal said, excited over the possibilities. "Count me in."

Peter appeared determined to rain on whatever parade he proposed. "You won't have warrants. What do you hope to accomplish?"

"We know he holds books for ransom," Diana riposted. "There may be others he's seized. Shouldn't we take advantage of this opportunity to case our mark?"

"Not you, too!" Peter thundered. "Need I remind you this is _not_ an art heist workshop."

"We're thinking ahead—beyond the time when you steal the manuscript," Jones said, apparently unruffled by Peter's sound and fury. "What then? We'll still need to document that he ordered the theft. Tying him to it directly won't be easy if all your communications are electronic. Travis will need to confiscate his computer, and for that we'll have to supply enough evidence for a judge to allow it. Understanding the situation at his castle will enable us to refine the op to provide the maximum probability of success."

"Now that's what I like to hear," Peter said, nodding with satisfaction. "We'll beat Bokmal legally, _by the book_. The sting at the Cloisters is simply one element of a larger Bureau operation."

When Peter demanded details of how Jones would stage the critter con, Neal let the others take the lead. The boss of their crew seemed unusually sensitive to Bureau protocol. Was he having cold feet at the undercover work? Peter's attitude was blaring a warning to cool it on the heist remarks. Having Rolf's files gave them a unique opportunity to attack crimes at the source—the buyers. The Steinar Wolff role was essential for them to succeed. Peter was the best candidate for the job, but not if he was too uncomfortable to function.

**WCWCWCWCWCWCWC**

Henry flashed his ID to the security guard at Prentis Hall who let him in with a cheerful greeting. By now he knew most of the guards. He'd made frequent trips to Aidan's studio for the past few months to film scenes for Aidan's project. The bulk of the camera work for _Pirates from Beyond_ had been completed, but Aidan had called him back to tweak one of the scenes.

The short feature was an assignment for Aidan's cinematography course. Like the other students, he'd prevailed on friends for help. In Aidan's case, Mozzie wrote the script and Richard supplied the makeup. Although Henry's role was by far the largest, Neal, Sara, and El also had parts. Mozzie had even written in a small scene for Eric. It foreshadowed a future relationship in a sequel which would likely never occur.

A suspicious brother might claim Henry was even happier about the romantic moments between Neal and Sara in the movie. That unnamed brother might even believe Henry had orchestrated them, and that was not the case. It was pure Mozzie. Henry had wondered if he shouldn't include Mozzie in the conspiracy, but apparently there was no need. The man who Neal sometimes called his love guru was acting unprompted. Smart man. He knew what was meant to be. Now if only Neal would wake up and realize it.

Neal had arranged for Henry to star in the project as a birthday gift, but the present from Henry's perspective wasn't the chance to act, sweet as that was. The real gift was the chance for Henry to get better acquainted with Aidan and Richard. They were Neal's closest friends at Columbia—his fellow musketeers he called them—and they'd been quick to adopt Henry as a comrade even though he was worthless at art and fencing.

But that didn't mean he couldn't pump them for a little intel. After all, his motives were pure. This was the time to keep d'Artagnan from acting like an idiot. Sara's departure made his efforts all the more critical. The carefully crafted scenario Henry had planted in Diana's stories over the past several months was about to go up in smoke.

The timing was so abysmally wretched, Henry could easily believe someone had planted a curse. Just when Neal was finally free to pursue Sara, she was taking off to Europe. Matthew, the man she was dating was probably British. If he were American he would have shortened his name to something friendlier.

Henry was convinced that there was real chemistry between Neal and Sara. The times he'd seen them together made it clear they cared for each other. There could still be a chance, even it was a long shot. And those were the odds which got his blood racing. The first step was to demonstrate to Neal how unsuitable Alicia, aka Alex, was. He'd have to do it in such a way that Neal would never suspect. Neal's musketeers would be the perfect unwitting accomplices. _Welcome to the conspiracy, guys._

The door to Aidan's studio was open. Aidan had his headphones on and was working at his computer when Henry entered. Aidan tapped a couple of keys on the keyboard and took off the headgear. "Final session! I only have five minutes I want to rerecord."

_Which will take about two hours at Aidan's typical rate of speed. _

They were about an hour into it when Mozzie dropped in. "I've got a go on a party room for November 28. Mark it on your calendars. It's the Monday after Thanksgiving. Everyone should be free."

"That's one of the dates Keiko said was clear," Aidan said, swiveling to the computer and making a note.

Henry checked the calendar on his phone. "I'm good and Eric should be as well."

"This will be a post-production party worthy of Hollywood," Mozzie declared. "El and Janet are already reviewing menu options. Michael's promised a spectacular cake."

With all the people who'd helped on the project, it would be a large group. Angela had helped on the music, Janet on costumes. Jones and Diana had been involved with the first scenes involving the U-boat, and Travis had been their sci-fi advisor.

"The White Collar contingent has signed off on the date," Mozzie said. "The only no show is Sara."

"Perhaps Neal can bring Alicia," Aidan said. "It's about time we met her."

Henry watched Mozzie carefully for his reaction, and he didn't disappoint. "Not likely," he said, shaking his head.

"Or he could bring Alex," Aidan suggested.

"Who's Alex?" Henry asked innocently. "A fellow art student?"

"Maybe. I heard him mention her on the phone."

Mozzie didn't say anything but busied himself studying some screenshots Aidan had printed off. There was just a hint of a smile on his face. Mozzie must know Alex. That confirmed she was a fellow thief. Henry knew better than to ask any further questions. He'd already gotten the answer he needed. What did Neal see in Alex that Sara didn't have? Was it simply that she was a fellow thief? Did he think he wasn't good enough for Sara? To be fair, Henry needed to check Alex out before judging. Like Neal, she might have changed.

Henry kept his game face on with difficulty. Mozzie had written Arkham Henry to be Neal's superhero in the last Arkham Files story. Was that a covert signal for Henry to stay the course? Perhaps Mozzie guessed what Henry and El had been up to and had given it his tacit approval. Mozzie would never cross Neal openly, but he undoubtedly realized that Neal and Sara were meant to be. Now he was relying on Henry to provide the solution. Henry was looking forward to the day when he could compare strategies with the master conman. It was like they'd synchronized their moves in advance.

**WCWCWCWCWCWCWC**

As the van rolled to a stop in front of the mansion, Neal turned to Diana. "Are you ready to be a critter-buster?"

"No matter if it creeps, flies, or slithers, I'm on it," Diana said, pushing up the sleeves of her uniform as if to prove the point.

Jones and Travis had handled the details on the previous day while Neal had been at the Cloisters. The efficient wizards in Travis's kingdom had transformed a surveillance van into a critter-mobile overnight and provided them with matching navy coveralls. Jones called the firm which had been originally contacted to explain that their services were no longer needed. It was unfortunate that the company would miss out on a business opportunity. To make up for it, Jones coerced his aunt who lived in a nearby town into hiring them to evict the raccoon which called her attic home. Jones muttered that half of the town had similar problems, and since his aunt knew them all, the company could have its best year ever.

On the drive to the property, the others lectured Neal on the types of animals he might encounter. Who knew there were so many? Neal had expected squirrels and mice, maybe bats, but Jones added flying squirrels, moles, snakes, and skunks to the list. When Diana drilled him on signs indicative of the various animals, Neal pretended to be attentive, but he was far more interested in the non-living treasures which could be hidden away. He'd studied photos of the stone mansion. Perched on top of a mountain, its resemblance to a castle was striking. The red slate roof was broken up with numerous turrets, dormers and projecting overhangs. Searching through the attics for a small interloper would be a monumental task. Fortunately, it wasn't one they needed to accomplish.

A long dirt road wound up to the hillside to the estate, ending at a stone gateway. The housekeeper greeted them at the door. She was taken aback by their numbers, but Diana explained they were necessary given the size of the castle. Her assignment was to keep the housekeeper occupied. Jones was in charge of the attics while Travis and Neal handled the interior.

The housekeeper stared wide-eyed at the gear they brought in. "Lord, what is all this?"

"These devices will help us detect the faintest sound in the walls," Travis explained.

_As well as hidden cubbyholes. _Neal noted the elaborate wall paneling in the entry. The woodwork provided excellent cache potential.

"But I already know the noises came from the attic over the front rooms," she protested.

"Those are only the ones you heard, ma'am," Jones said. "The walls may be home to entire warrens of deer mice." He tapped the wallpaper on the wall. "They could be right next to us but you wouldn't know it."

Neal nodded grimly. "They may have lived here for years, hoarding seeds under the floorboards. Any moment they could short the wiring."

"I've seen it happen all too often," Diana chimed in. "One electrical spark and the entire house could go up in flames."

"Oh, my." The housekeeper's ruddy face grew pale. "I had no idea."

"Don't worry," Jones assured her. "With our equipment, we'll be able to determine the severity of the infestation, but we may need a couple of hours."

The housekeeper nodded. "Take as long as you need. I'm glad Mr. Stanton isn't at home."

They'd been prepared to work around the staff, but now their task would be that much simpler. While Diana took a detailed history of the strange sounds the housekeeper had heard, the rest of them fanned out. It took an hour of searching, but Neal found the prize he'd been looking for—a hidden cache behind a wall panel under a staircase.

Once they were rumbling back to town, Neal called Peter, putting him on speaker to tell him the good news. "Inside the cubbyhole was a work by Copernicus, dated 1566."

"It should be on the Interpol database," Peter said, his voice betraying his excitement. "You left it in place, I hope?"

"Of course. I also noted that the cache has been wired."

"Peter, this is Travis. I checked the wiring. There's a small detonation device which is rigged to explode. It could be performed remotely. If we get a warrant to search the premises, our first step needs to be to cut the electricity."

"That's a big if," Peter warned. "None of this can be presented to a judge. We'll need to get Stanton to incriminate himself."

"Once you have the Hildegard, the ball will be in our court," Diana asserted. "We'll be able to flush him."

Silence on the other end. Neal knew that Peter didn't want to commit the theft but there was no way around it. The museum had reluctantly sanctioned the op with the proviso that the manuscript would never leave museum property. The team was counting on the recording Peter would make to provide enough proof that they actually had the book.

"We saved the best news for last," Jones said. "I found traces of the culprit—a raccoon. I installed Havahart traps. We'll need to return daily to check them."

**WCWCWCWCWCWCWC**

"Don't you want to see the view from up here?" Neal asked. "When will you have another opportunity to admire the world from a medieval bell tower?"

Peter looked up at his fellow thief, perched high in the scaffolding next to a window within the Romanesque structure, and admitted he had a point. The interior of the tower was a bare shell with a metal framework lining the sides. White Collar's spider monkey had promptly seized the opportunity to climb to the top of the tower.

They'd arrived on site in the late afternoon after spending the previous day in meticulous preparation. Neal had insisted the op be carried out as if museum officials weren't aware of their plans. Maintenance coveralls were obtained for both of them. Their equipment was lightweight and easily stowed in what appeared to be a power vacuum cleaner. Neal had taken advantage of his new expertise with urban wildlife to claim that they were cleaning Chimney Swift nests out of the tower. After dropping off their equipment, they'd signed out only to sneak back in an hour later.

Peter had never taken part in an actual theft, and he hoped this was as close as he ever got. The justification was solid. They'd discovered that the copy of the book by Copernicus which Neal had found in Stanton's cubbyhole had been stolen from a West London warehouse a month ago. The book, a 1566 copy of _De Revolutionibus Orbium Coelestium_ was worth about $300,000. Now all they needed was enough evidence for a search warrant. The team was convinced that stealing the book would entice Bokmal to reveal his identity. Peter wished he shared their confidence. Currently, the only result from the op appeared to be a boost to Neal's thief instincts. Hughes's warning continued to weigh heavily on Peter's conscience.

The museum was now closed. He and Neal had been told to wait till the start of the performance of the _Play of Daniel_, giving Peter plenty of time for that overdue discussion. One advantage of being high in the tower was that there'd be minimal risk of being overheard. The sun had set. A few outside lights provided illumination. The ideal setting for a one on one. Neal preferred non-office situations for difficult conversations. He'd have his wish.

"You're right." Peter agreed once he'd climbed the scaffolding and made himself comfortable on the inside ledge of the window next to Neal. "The view is spectacular."

"All we need is a bottle of wine—"

"—or beer," Peter interjected.

Neal smiled. "I'll make a note to bring both next time."

_Meaning you plan heists to be a regular feature of your job? Not so fast._ Peter opted to start with a safe topic. "Have you decided on your plans for Thanksgiving? We'll drive to my parents late Wednesday, assuming we don't need to stay around for the op. We'd love to have you along."

"Thanks for the invitation, but I'm taking advantage of the days off to make a quick study trip to Europe."

"I saw you'd requested Tuesday off."

"No one wanted to attend classes on Wednesday and we were able to get them rescheduled for Tuesday. That means I can leave Tuesday night and have close to five days in Europe."

So much for safe topics. Did that study trip include meeting Alex Hunter? Had she asked him to help her with a heist?

Neal glanced at him. "Is the height getting to you? I hope you're not upset about the trip. You realize that if the op's not finished, I'll cancel my plans."

Peter tried to do a better job of masking his unease. "No, you should go ahead and make your preparations. El will be envious when she hears of the trip. Where are you going?"

"There are so many museums I'd like to visit, I haven't decided yet."

Was that a deflection to avoid telling him where Alex was? Peter cringed at how suspicious he'd become. Hughes's concern was really doing a number on him. "You should consider Lyon. That was quite a hotel where our characters spent Thanksgiving in Diana's Arkham Files story."

Neal chuckled. "It's tempting but it wouldn't be the same without you, El, and Mozzie."

No mention of Sara. Her character had been there too. Was Peter reading too much into it? That was the story where Arkham Neal and Sara had exchanged their first kiss. This was likely Neal's subtle hint that Sara was a non-starter. "I'm glad Diana emphasizes the family aspect to our relationship," Peter said. "We'll miss you in Albany. My parents will too."

"And I'm sorry I won't be there. I hope you don't mind."

"No, I understand why you'd like to take advantage of those days off." Peter hesitated. Broaching the subject of James was harder than he thought.

"What's bothering you?"

Neal's direct question should have solved the situation, but now he had to pick which one of many to focus on. He decided on the top one on his list. "Thanksgiving is a time when we think about families. Given your situation with James and Meredith, this may not be the happiest of holidays for you. We never talk about them, but they're your parents. If you ever want to discuss them, I'm here for you."

Neal glanced at him, a puzzled look on his face. "Is this because of my character in Diana's stories? Were you the one who told her to write about him having no memory of his parents?"

"No, that was Tricia's idea. She was trying to make Rolf view you in a more sympathetic light."

"It might have helped—not with Rolf, but with Klaus," Neal admitted.

Peter latched onto the comparison with Arkham Files, hoping he wouldn't have to bring up Alex. "Arkham Neal has a lot of issues to deal with. His hybrid status, alien family tree . . ." El would have been able to bring up how they'd influenced the character's relationship with Sara, but that was a bridge too far for him.

"Not unlike me? I thought that was the purpose of the stories. Are you worried I'm concerned about my past too?" He shrugged. "I've had to adjust. And now our Arkham counterparts have also become thieves. Diana must have been prescient."

"Tricia had developed that storyline before we captured the Mansfelds," Peter quickly pointed out, frustrated at the wrong track the conversation had veered onto. "I should advise Diana to change the arc."

"Why?" Neal protested. "The good guys—namely us—stole the armillary sphere to prevent evil aliens from destroying yours truly."

"Okay, I'll grant you in that instance it was acceptable. Besides, it was more of a recovery effort than a theft. But the future storyline?"

Neal snorted his disbelief. "You don't think saving mankind is an acceptable justification?"

"It's not that. There's too much emphasis on thievery." Peter stumbled over the words. This was not coming out at all as he'd planned.

"The stories aren't the problem. _This_ is. The heist. That's what you're trying to tell me." Neal's lips tightened. Even in the dim light, Peter could see the concern in his face. "I was worried you were uncomfortable about your role. You should have let Diana or Jones take your place."

"It's not me I'm worried about, it's _you_," Peter blurted in exasperation.

Neal stared at him bewildered. "What are you talking about? I hope you don't think I've lost my touch just because I'm not on the most wanted list."

Peter groaned. "That's the problem. You're _too_ good at this. When I recruited you for the Bureau, yes, I wanted to put your expertise to a positive use—"

"—and that's what happened."

"Let me finish. We're getting close to celebrating your second year anniversary with the Bureau, but are we doing a disservice to you by continuing to demand you use your thief skills?"

"I don't mind."

"But I do. Are we forcing you to continue to think like a thief? Are we depriving you of the ability to settle down, have a normal life?" Should he bring up a wife and kids? Was that going too far? How would Peter react if someone asked him about children?

Neal frowned. "Aren't you getting a little carried away? This is just one undercover assignment. There's something else going on, isn't there?"

Peter gave in to the inevitable. He consoled himself that it would have eventually come out one way or another. "Hughes talked to me. He's concerned about both of us and the irregularity of the op. He's uncomfortable with us not following procedures. What the team did at the estate was much more similar to thieves casing a mark than something the Bureau would do."

"But our results prove how effective we are."

"I know and I defended the plan."

"But now you're second-guessing yourself? There's no need to. Relax. We'll nail Stanton and reduce the demand for stolen books. You should be excited about the opportunity."

**WCWCWCWCWCWCWC**

Peter's malaise was unexpected. Neal had fully intended to pass the time discussing future cons with the goal of trapping more of the names on Rolf's list. Instead Peter took his stewing to new depths. Surely he wasn't worried about Neal going dark side again? Were all the months of worrying about Rolf and Klaus the cause? Something had triggered it, and it wasn't Diana's stories nor was it Hughes's warning although they might have exacerbated the issue.

There was no time to puzzle about it now. The _Play of Daniel_ was due to start. The best Neal could do was to get through the heist cleanly and efficiently before Peter totally freaked out on him. _No teases_.

As the faint strains of a medieval processional filtered in from the adjoining chapel, he and Peter left the tower to crawl through the attic space. It was a tight squeeze. At one point, Neal wasn't sure if Peter could manage it, but he powered through, a look of grim determination plastered on his face the entire time. He really should try to relax. It wasn't like the feds were on hand to arrest them. It was crystal clear that Peter simply was not meant to be a cat burglar, not that it was a surprise. Polar bears weren't known for stealth.

When they reached their objective—a ceiling panel over the gallery, Neal had Peter wait while he delicately pried it loose. Even though he was only simulating an actual heist, Neal took pride in the execution. He'd handle all the critical actions himself. He'd brought along a cable to tie between ceiling joists from which he'd suspend his aerial ladder. Peter's role was to monitor the cable and film Neal's actions. Once the panel was removed, there was enough light to document the rigging.

Neal unwound the ladder. With a thumbs up to Peter, he descended the rungs. The soft acrobat slippers he wore didn't make a whisper of a sound. This ladder was a particular favorite. It was a custom job designed for the narrowest of spaces and had a width of only six inches. As Neal descended silently into the gallery, the rush returned. It was just him and an empty gallery filled with art. The muted sounds of the medieval play were an eerie presence in the room.

With the sensors disabled, he could easily lift the lid off the Plexiglass case surrounding the Hildegard manuscript. The ancient leather book was his to take. He could feel Hildegard's presence in the gallery. He remembered the sounds of her music which had been playing in the gallery the first time he'd seen it. _This is to keep you safe_, he murmured silently. _We won't let anyone harm you_.

He removed his climbing gloves and slipped them inside a pocket. The museum had warned him to only touch the book with clean bare hands. He'd prepared a custom archival box which had been certified by the authorities. Carefully he inserted the book into a heavy polyethylene bag and placed it within the box. Hildegard had now added the role of con artist into her repertoire of skills.

* * *

_Notes: The misunderstandings multiply in the final chapter, coming next week. Will Peter and Neal figure out what is actually going on or will yet another layer of complexity be added to the Clueless con? The answer and more will be revealed in Chapter 4: Coming Out._

_With this story, the Clueless con moves into a new phase. The Cloister of Secrets Sandbox is this week's blog topic. Next week I'll have details about the upcoming lineup of stories._

_Blog: Penna Nomen & Silbrith Conversation__  
Chapter Visuals and Music: The Cloister of Secrets board on the Caffrey Conversation Pinterest website_


	4. Coming Out

**Chapter 4: Coming Out**

**Federal Building. Sunday, November 20, 2005.**

Jones looked up from his laptop. "I've sent the recording and the message. The ball's in Bokmal's court."

Would Stanton act as Neal believed? Peter wished he could be as certain. The team had reconvened at White Collar the next morning and spread out in the upstairs conference room. On a Sunday, the bullpen was deserted. By the time Peter arrived, Travis had already made a pot of coffee for what could be a long wait.

They didn't know how many people worked for Stanton. Bokmal could be the designation for an entire team. It was one of the case's many unknowns. The initial instructions were that an exchange would be arranged after the recording was verified, but Neal argued that Steinar Wolff could now set the terms. They'd soon find out if he was right.

Diana glanced at her watch. "It's past ten o'clock. The museum's open. One of Bokmal's fellow worms is likely on-site."

"And he'll find the gallery closed," Neal said as he doodled on a sheet of paper. "Bokmal should already know the heist was a success."

"He better," Travis said, "after the show we put on last night." Once all the attendees of the play had left, museum security put on a second performance. As agreed earlier, officials were on hand to greet team members who acted out a forensic examination of the scene of the crime. Peter had arranged for NYPD to send a couple of squad cars. To any onlooker, the investigation would appear absolutely authentic. Meanwhile the Hildegard was safely stowed in a holding area at the Cloisters. Their hope was that it would be back on display the next day.

In his confirmation message to Bokmal, Peter had demanded that the exchange be made in the afternoon. He claimed that he had another buyer who was interested and that Bokmal would have to meet with him personally if he wanted the book. They already knew Stanton had sufficient funds. He could initiate a wire transfer from his account in Switzerland on the spot.

After Jones sent the message through the dark web, everyone except Neal kept themselves busy by working on their laptops. The artistic member of the team had evidently decided to try his hand at being a medieval scribe. He'd taken a Bureau bulletin and was drawing caricatures of team members along the margins. His first one was of Diana riding a sea monster. He'd just finished a drawing of Travis shaking hands with a space alien when the response came through.

"He took the bait!" Jones said jubilantly. "Bokmal's agreed to meet us in the parking lot of Van Cortland Manor."

Diana tapped rapidly on her keyboard. "That's a historic museum about thirty minutes south of his castle."

"Did he provide a telephone number?" Peter demanded.

Jones grinned. "Yep, Neal was right. I gotta admit, I didn't think Bokmal would agree to it."

"Greed has consumed caution," Neal said. "It's a reasonable request to insist you call him with the exact time of the meeting. You'll be on the road. The internet won't be available."

That phone call would provide the evidence they needed for the search warrant. They'd been able to secure provisional approval from a reluctant judge based on the accumulated internet evidence and dependent on phone confirmation. John Hobhouse, their London contact with the Interpol art crimes task force had provided additional evidence about the Copernicus manuscript.

Peter was taking a page from Rolf's playbook. The criminal had turned a limo into his office when he met Peter. Now Steinar Wolff would do the same. Jones would be the chauffeur. Whoever met them in the parking lot would be immediately arrested. At the time of the appointment, Travis would have the power to Stanton's house shut off. The rest of the team would then storm the castle.

** WCWCWCWCWCWCWC**

A successful con, expertly designed and executed, was a beautiful thing. Neal was a member of the search team. Stanton and his driver were arrested without a struggle. The Copernicus manuscript was still in its cubbyhole, undamaged, and would shortly be on its way back to England.

The team had Monday off as comp time for the previous day, and Neal took advantage of it to call Sara. Early afternoon in New York translated into evening for her. She clinked her wine glass with his coffee mug over the phone.

"Have you been able to tie Stanton to any other thefts?" she asked.

"Travis and Jones scoured his computer files and found plenty of evidence. That Copernicus manuscript was the only book on the property but Stanton had records for many others, including works by Galileo and several first editions. With Stanton's extortion scheme out of business, the world will be a safer place for rare books. I like to think Hildegard is smiling."

"I'm sure she is. You are too, I bet. I would have loved to have been a member of your crew."

"I wish I could have replaced Peter with you. He might not admit it, but he would have as well. We had some time to kill before carrying out the heist, and he was in a strange mood. For some reason, he's obsessing that the sting will awaken a secret desire I've been harboring to be a thief once more."

"The con against the Mansfelds could be a factor," she speculated. "Peter needed to convince Rolf that he was unethical. That may have weighed more heavily on him than he realized, and now he's transferring his fears onto you."

"We have a rare opportunity to take down buyers of stolen art, but I don't know if Peter can handle the challenges of shapeshifting." Neal couldn't go into the specifics of the files Travis and Aidan were decrypting, but Sara knew they existed. She was there when they confiscated them in Hungary.

"Could anyone else on the team fill the role?" Sara asked.

"Diana is the best at undercover work. She could replace him. But we've been trying to stick as close as possible to the situation Rolf envisioned. The buyers may know that the user ID is associated with a man."

"Rolf could have boasted about having you on board. And I know from a personal standpoint, you'd rather have Peter."

"We'd make a perfect team," Neal agreed, "if he could just relax. I got the distinct impression Peter feels like he sold his soul to the devil."

"Don't give up on him," Sara urged. "This may have simply been opening night jitters. You said he has the ability. He just has to get comfortable with the part. Is there anything you can do to ease the transition?"

"I'd considered one tactic. If Peter weren't worried about the harm the sting was doing to me, he'd have one less thing to stew about. How would you feel if I went ahead and told him about us? I'd tell El, too."

"You don't have to ask. I'll gladly pay for an announcement on Times Square as soon as Henry knows the truth."

He knew that was probably the case, but hearing her voice it aloud lessened his fears about a long-distance relationship.

"When would you like to tell them?" she asked.

"They invited me over this evening to help finish leftovers from a party El coordinated on Saturday. Peter's calling it an early Thanksgiving."

"For El to hear how well her matchmaking succeeded should make it a joyous occasion. I'll call her after you've talked with them. Part of the reason for starting the Clueless con was so our friends wouldn't worry about us messing up."

"But now Peter is stressing about that exact thing. From the way he was talking, he made it sound like I'd never commit to anyone and that I'd bolt at any moment. Hearing that somehow I tricked you into falling for me should ease his concern."

"Hah! I was the one who convinced you to give us a chance."

"Proving how well I conned you." Neal smiled into the phone, picturing her face at the other end. "But you recognize if I go ahead and tell them, you can't drop me for some English lord who sweet talks you."

"And you better not set your sights on some Columbia coed."

"No chance of that."

"A girl can't be too careful. In fact, I'll need lots of reassurance over Thanksgiving."

"I have an idea where that can be best accomplished."

**WCWCWCWCWCWCWC**

"Have you decided if you're going to bring up Alex?" El asked as she placed the wine glasses on the dining room table.

"Not yet," Peter admitted, uncorking a bottle of wine. The table was set. There were ample supplies of cheese, cold cuts, appetizers, and salads to feed twice their number. By rights, this should be a relaxing evening. Neal would take off for Europe in twenty-four hours. Surely Peter could hold off the looming Alex conversation till Neal's return. The op had been a success. No need to wreck Thanksgiving for all of them.

But when Neal arrived, he appeared on edge too. Not that anyone else would notice, but Peter had grown so familiar with Neal's minute tells that he could recognize the signs that he was nervous.

So it didn't come as much of a surprise when shortly after they sat down at the dining table, Neal said, "I have a confession to make." What was remarkable was that El was in the room. Peter had assumed Neal wouldn't want her to know about his criminal girlfriend.

El must have had the same reaction since she exchanged an anxious look with Peter. But this was Neal's choice, and Peter was proud of him for coming clean with both of them.

Neal took a breath. "I was planning to tell you—not quite this soon—but after that discussion we had in the bell tower, I didn't want to wait. It's about Alicia . . ." He hesitated for a moment, his eyes flicking to El.

"Let me make it easier for you. We already know," Peter said, keeping his voice low pitched while lecturing himself not to come down too hard on Neal. It wasn't like they were getting married. There was still time to convince him Alex wasn't the best choice. Unless . . . God, was she pregnant? Maybe she'd tricked him into thinking she was using protection. Neal would insist on marrying her. That visit to New York two weeks ago was to tell him he was about to become a father. Bile rose in Peter's throat when he remembered how he'd helped to keep their date private.

He could see the nightmare playing out in front of him. Alex would raise the child, a mini-Neal, to be a thief. The kid would have the combined talents of both parents. Their lives would spiral out of control, and Peter's as well. He took a glug of wine, forgetting it wasn't beer but fancy Cabernet. He choked on it and began to cough.

El handed him a glass of water while Neal stared at him with consternation. "Before you go any further," El said, "I need to make a confession as well."

He smiled. "About your matchmaking attempts?"

"You already know?" she asked helplessly.

"Henry came to you, asking your help in planting suggestions in Diana's stories. The two of you have been plotting to bring Sara and me together."

"When did you realize it?"

"I suspected it when Diana published _The Crypt_. I detected Henry's signature moves in the scene where Sara and I celebrated Halloween. Henry was acting as if he didn't read the stories, which made it obvious he was hiding something. Since he didn't want to give himself away, he'd need an accomplice and you were the logical choice." Neal smiled at her. "Don't be upset. It's really quite touching."

"Henry was worried that Bianka would take advantage of you," El said. "And that was before we discovered she was a spy. You and Fiona had just broken up. The Mansfelds were subjecting you to their particular form of torture."

"Henry started long before I met Fiona," Neal pointed out. "Over a year and a half ago, he schemed for Sara and me to volunteer together. If he'd just come to me and been open about what he was doing, I would have appreciated it. But since he was making a game of it, I decided to as well. We even gave it a name. The Clueless con."

_Of course, it was a con. What else would two thieves call it?_ This had been going on for far longer than Peter realized. Alex's hooks were into Neal so deeply, he wouldn't be able to break free, especially not with Neal Junior on the way.

"Last week Henry told me about Alex, and I realized I needed to tell Peter." El's cheeks reddened. "We only had your best interests at heart."

"What about Alex?" Neal asked warily.

"That she's Alicia, of course."

"Neal, I'm sorry," Peter said, cutting in. "But we were worried about you. When Henry told El he believed Alex Hunter was a thief, El felt obligated to let me know. I should have come to you first, but I wanted to find out if Henry was correct before approaching you. I realize I promised not to interfere with your personal life, but —"

Neal was biting his lip, trying to hold back his emotions. He waved his hand for Peter to stop, and it was the least he could do. For Neal's sake, he should give Alex a fair hearing while praying she wouldn't manipulate him like Kate had.

"This is why you were freaking out in the bell tower?" Neal asked, as if Peter were the one who was in danger of ruining his life.

"I wasn't _freaking out_. I was concerned. It was a natural reaction. At work, we asked you to be a thief. Then I find out you've been dating a cat burglar for months. I've been so proud of how you turned your life around and now . . ." Peter stopped, clamping his mouth shut before venting like he wanted to.

Neal nodded, his face conveying sympathetic understanding. "When you explain it that way, it does make perfect sense. My bad blood is rising to the top. I really should warn Sara. I could ditch her at any minute for Alex."

"That's right—wait—what did you say?"

Neal gave Peter that fake guileless look which annoyed him so much. "Sara. She's Alicia, not Alex. But given my natural proclivities—"

Neal's next words were drowned out by El's rapturous exclamation and Peter's bellows for letting him go on so long before explaining. When they finally let him talk, Neal described how he and Sara had been conning them since July.

"We discussed dating during the week after I returned from Los Angeles, but I wasn't ready and Sara knew it. We also worried about dragging well-intentioned friends"—Neal paused to look pointedly at them—"into what we viewed would likely be yet another dating disaster. You'd suffered along with me when Fiona and I split. I had no desire to put you through that again. It started out as a game to throw the matchmakers in our lives a curveball, not mentioning any names of course. Sara called me Matthew after Matthew Macfadyen in _Pride and Prejudice_. Her alias was Alicia from Alicia Silverstone in _Clueless_. "

"That's why you called it the Clueless con!" El exclaimed.

He shrugged. "It was appropriate. We decided to mock our reputation."

"And you told Diana to make your characters in Arkham Files even more clueless than you were," she accused.

He smiled. "They did sink to new depths of misguided intentions, didn't they? But they also gave Sara and me hope that no matter how badly we screwed up, we'd be able to muddle our way out of our messes." His expression turned serious. "We're grateful for your assistance. The way you had our characters cope with their challenges made it easier for me to tell her about the curse, the Mansfelds, my past . . ." His words died off for a moment. "I've been more open with Sara than with any other woman I've dated, and that's in large measure because of your help even though you didn't realize it at the time."

Peter's anxieties had been melted away by a warm glow. "How many others know?"

"Mozzie discovered our secret when I talked in my sleep while I was being affected by the curse. Then . . ." He grinned sheepishly. "Travis happened upon us in a supply room at work last week when we were saying goodbye. Now Richard, Aidan, and Keiko also know. We'd planned to tell everyone soon but were hoping to make a game of it. Sara's transfer has added an unexpected wrinkle. Is Henry as worried about Alex as you were?"

El considered a moment. "He's more exhilarated than anything else. He's convinced he's on the right track and determined to snoop out just what your status with Alex is."

"How much does he know"—he glanced at Peter with a hint of uneasiness—"do _you_ know about Alex?"

"Henry figured out Alex was a thief and suspected she was Alexandra Hunter," Peter said. "That's when El brought me in. I looked her up. She's not in the FBI database, but Interpol knows about her. A few arrests. No convictions."

Neal nodded. "Alex and I dated a couple of times when I worked for Klaus, but I haven't seen her for years."

"I haven't told Henry about Peter's research," El said. "How would you like me to play it?"

"We could use your help in leading him to the right conclusion," Neal said. "It's a challenge because if we make it too easy, he'll know it's a setup. We thought he would have guessed after he spotted us at a movie Saturday night."

"You saw _Pride and Prejudice_!" El exclaimed.

He grinned. "You're catching on. Sara wore her Alicia disguise, and I didn't wear one. Henry had already seen me with her at Riffs when she was dressed as Alicia. In addition, he spied on us at a Japanese restaurant where I wore my Matthew disguise. We thought the movie would have provided sufficient clues, but it didn't work out as we intended."

"He became convinced Alicia is Alex when he saw Sara's outfit Saturday night," El said. "Henry's reasoning is so complicated, it's tripping him up. A month ago, Henry considered the possibility Matthew doesn't exist, but now he's rejected the idea. It crossed his mind that you might have pretended to be Matthew at the Japanese restaurant to prank him."

Neal snorted. "Leading him to the correct conclusion may be more difficult than I anticipated. Are you willing to continue the game a little longer? Sara and I would like to do something special to thank our matchmakers. It won't be as much of a surprise for you—"

"Trust me," said Peter quickly. "That will make it even better. Surprise parties were never my thing."

"But they are Henry's," El said, her eyes sparkling. "Do you remember how elated he was to trick Neal by wearing the Wookiee costume at the sci-fi convention last year? This will be payback." She turned to Neal. "Do you have a date in mind?"

"Around the end of the year, assuming Sara's still putting up with me."

"Surely you're not worried?" she said. "Not after everything you've already gone through."

He shrugged. "The Atlantic Ocean is looking larger by the moment." He smiled at them. "That's why I'll meet her in Europe over Thanksgiving."

"Dare I ask where you're meeting?" El asked.

"A place you're familiar with—Lyon."

El gave the same ecstatic sigh she used when she'd arrived at the happy ending of a movie. "Did you select the hotel where our Arkham characters spent Thanksgiving in _Lion's Lair_?"

"Of course, and I hope we won't be as confused as they were."

"Remember to avoid wormholes," Peter said sternly. "We won't be around to rescue you."

"All wormholes are only in Arkham Files," El declared adamantly. "Will you spend the weekend there?"

"No, after two days, we'll travel to Besançon."

That was the city where a couple of months ago they'd inspected the recovered Nazi-plundered art. "You'd mentioned wanting more time there," Peter said. "You'll have your wish."

"Yes, and I actually do plan to visit the museum." He smiled mischievously. "But I don't intend to study as much as I might have led you to believe."

"Good man."

"We'll spend Saturday evening in Paris."

"Staying at the Jeu de Paume Hotel?" The small hotel on the Ile-St. Louis was Neal's favorite.

He nodded. "It will give me a chance to disclose a few more of my secrets. I'll introduce Sara to Chantal that evening."

As El plied Neal with wine and demanded details on how he and Sara had tricked everyone for the past four months, Peter shoved his concerns about James back into his mental file cabinet. Someday he and Neal should look into it, but tonight was only for happy topics.

**Thanksgiving Day. Lyon. Thursday, November 24, 2005. **

"Thank you, Arkham Round Table!" Sara exclaimed as she surveyed the patisserie. They'd found the small shop near their hotel in Vieux Lyon, and Neal had discovered yet one more secret about Sara. She loved pastries almost as much as jewelry. With their Thanksgiving dinner yet to come, they'd restricted themselves to bichons and coffee. Neal could have easily eaten two of the lemon curd pastries. Sara refused to admit to a maximum.

They'd left their disguises behind. Henry was spending Thanksgiving with Eric and his family. Mozzie had arranged Neal's plane tickets so even if Henry had wanted to, he wouldn't have been able to track Neal. But that in itself was a signal that Neal was aware someone could be monitoring him. He gave it a seventy-five percent probability that Henry would guess that Neal was in Lyon. If Henry called the hotel to check on reservations, he'd find a surprise waiting for him.

"Why did Diana pick Lyon for Arkham Neal's Thanksgiving adventure?" Sara asked.

"She'd selected the Renaissance philosopher Heinrich Agrippa to appeal to Rolf Mansfeld. Agrippa had written on the occult and had devised cryptic codes which were bound to intrigue him. Agrippa spent several years in Lyon."

"You must have given her a nudge because of the city's gastronomic fame."

He smiled. "We'll put that to the test tonight. Peter was also pleased with the choice since Interpol's headquarters are located here. He thought that would give an extra tweak to the Leopard's tail." He took his final sip of espresso. "Are you ready for another round of secrets?"

"I am. Let's continue with our parents."

That would have been Neal's suggestion as well. Sara knew he'd been in WITSEC but he'd only mentioned James in passing. It was hard to think of him as his father since he couldn't remember him. Were the stories about him accurate? Were there extenuating circumstances?

"You know about my dad," Sara said, "but I haven't shared much about Mom. She was killed in a car crash when I was sixteen. People told me I should feel grateful she died instantly and didn't suffer. I was in shock, I think, for a year. I went to live with my aunt in Baltimore. My aunt Celeste was well-intentioned, but she didn't know what to do with me. She was single, freely admitting she was married to her job. Somehow, both of us survived my high school years."

"You went through as much of an upheaval as I did," Neal said sympathetically. "I'd like to meet Celeste."

"And you will someday."

"Perhaps next year we'll spend Thanksgiving in Baltimore."

"I'd like that. D.C.'s next door. It will give me a chance to become better acquainted with your Caffrey relatives."

"What made you decide to go into investigative work?"

"Can I claim Nancy Drew as my career counselor?" she said with a mischievous smile. "I think she had more influence on me than anyone. That, and pirates, of course."

"You, too?"

"Who can resist the search for buried treasure? With my job, I can't keep the loot, but I get the thrill of finding it. That's good enough." She exhaled. "So now you know about my dysfunctional family."

Meaning it was time for him to talk about his. "Your dad deserted you. Mine was a dirty cop. When he killed a policeman, in a sense he deserted Mom and me."

"Have you had any contact with him since?"

"No, and the marshals urged me not to look for him. Supposedly, elements of the Irish mob and the dirty cops who worked with him are still threats. Peter worries that my dad's actions are messing with my head, but, honestly, I try to think about him as little as possible."

"That's healthiest since you're not supposed to seek him out."

"But he's part of me. Can we ever know who we truly are if we don't know our parents, accepting the bad as well as the good?" He shrugged. When Peter mentioned James, he awoke a nagging inner voice that Neal should try to reconnect with his parents.

Sara reached over and entwined her fingers with his. "This is Thanksgiving. It's a time to count our blessings. Our parents may not be around, but we have each other. We have friends who are as close as family. I consider Mozzie to be my uncle now," she confessed with a smile.

"And he loves it. Peter and El are overjoyed that you're Alicia."

"I'm so glad they know about us."

"And they've agreed to be members of our crew for the final act."

"You told them the rules?"

He nodded. "No lies, but as much smoke and misdirection as they'd like. The game begins when I return. It should make for quite a month."

* * *

_Notes: _Thanks to the awesome Penna Nomen for her many helpful edits and suggestions, and thanks to you for reading!__

_The next phase of the Clueless con has now begun with Peter and El fully on board. The sneaky gift Neal arranged for Henry in Lyon will be revealed in Night Music, the next story in the Crossed Lines series. At that time, the con acquires a new name. I'll post Night Music starting in September. Mozzie intends to plant some additional hints for Henry in the following Arkham Files story, Sands of Abydos, which will be posted beginning in October. _

_Next week, I'll take a break from Caffrey Conversation to post a story ___in the Invisible Library fandom_. The story is called Olmstead Manor and is part of my Tales from the Library series. There's background information about the story on our blog._

_Blog: Penna Nomen & Silbrith Conversation__  
Chapter Visuals and Music: The Cloister of Secrets board on the Caffrey Conversation Pinterest website_


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